


Never

by Dreamicide



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Future Tense, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamicide/pseuds/Dreamicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not exactly adept at human interaction. Ducks are a different story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never

When she waddles up to come sit on your lap, you will allow her to. It's summer, and the droplets of water her feathers shake off will be a blessing in the midst of the heat wave. She might quack, or sneeze, or maybe even stay silent—either way, you will lean back and give her a smile, because that's just what you do.

You will go back to your writing. You might contemplate things you shouldn't ever think about, but they will run through your head anyways. It's never easy to resist the temptations, but you will manage. You will remember the promise you made to her. The promise she made to herself. You will remember and you will put that damn quill down before you let your fingers ever have the chance to betray her.

Instead of writing, you will pick her up and put her back down in the lake to watch her swim. Ahiru will give you a look, a look that only ducks who used to be girls can give, but you will merely shrug and try not to let it show that you wish you could be holding her hand instead of webbed feet. When she splashes a hint of water at you, you will splash back with the edge of your shoe and tell her to find something to eat. You won't forget to call her a moron and you never will.

Watch as she leaves. Don't let your gaze linger for too long. Then you will go back to the parchment in your hands. Let the water droplets ruin the ink until the words are indistinguishable. After that you will rip whatever you have made right down the middle and draw your attention back to her. You'll hear her quacking from the distance and give a curt nod in acknowledgment.

When you hear footsteps coming your way you will turn around with a frown on your face, already in preparation to refuse any invitation to leave the vicinity. It will be a brown haired girl, short and awkward. You won't pay much attention to what she has to offer, but when she finishes you decline anyway. Turn back around. Wait for her to leave. She will stand there—perhaps numb from the shock—for a few minutes, but after a while you will hear the soft sound of her shoes shuffling through the grass. You will sigh quietly to yourself and go back to gazing over the lake.

It will be surprising to discover that Ahiru has seen the whole thing—and even more surprising to find her feathers ruffled and expression curved into nothing less than frustration. When she suddenly comes flapping up and squawking angrily, you won't know what the hell is wrong with her, but you'll try apologizing nonetheless with your hands held out and in a deep frown. After she calms down enough to begin miming with her wings, sit back and watch her. Argue with her when she coveys her wish for you to have accepted the invitation. Explain that you have no desire to spend time with other people. And hold back a wince when she comes up to give your hand a frustrated bite.

After an entire hour of her giving you the silent treatment, you will cave and attempt to spend time with other humans whenever given the opportunity. She will relax, and curl back into your lap with a satisfied quack. You will not understand her reasons for arguing in the first place.

You probably never will.

The next time someone approaches you it will be the pink haired girl you remember seeing with Ahiru from time to time. She will curl her hands into her skirt and glance away before asking if you would like to come and have a brunch meal over at the pizzeria, her voice wavered and nervous. You will stay in your seat before looking back over the lake and catching Ahiru's eyes. You will turn back to the pink haired girl and try not to sound so damn awkward.

You will say yes.

She will do most of the talking as you sit across from her in the plaza. You will not say much, but you'll have the feeling that she wasn't expecting that much out of you anyways. It won't matter in the end, because your mind will only be occupied by the stupid duck you left at the lake. You were never a fan of pizza, but you will eat it anyway, if only for the sake of being preoccupied with something.

The pink haired girl will lean forward and ask what you like to do when you're not dancing. You still will have not bothered to remember her damn name. And you will only sit back away from her and wrack your mind for a vague answer. Something that doesn't have to do with stretching by the lake and giving lovesick gazes to an animal while holding back on using your pen. Remind yourself to just break it the next time you see it. Mutter something about horse riding instead, and watch as her face brightens.

You'll only have to suffer through several more minutes before the server will stop by to hand you the bill. Before you accept it, the pink haired girl will reach over and explain that she will pay for her half. You will give an uncaring shrug and hand part of the receipt over to her. It won't even occur to you if she had really expected you to insist on paying for hers.

You never have been a gentleman. And you probably never will be.

When you go back to the lake, the sun will have already set and the crickets will chirp through the night air. You could only think about Ahiru throughout the day anyway, so it'll be a more than welcome sight to have her waddling up to your feet again.

Pick her up. Sit back down in the wooden chair and let its joints groan. Ignore her protests that the two of you need to be heading back home for the night. For the moment just lean back and enjoy her presence. She will flap her wings about in your grip, but it'll only make you want to hold her more tightly. You will want to confess that you would rather be with her more than any other person, but you'll just barely hold your tongue.

The next time you glance down at her, the moon will be casting a faint glow of light over her blue eyes. You won't be able to resist flicking the feather at the top of her head, and judging by her flustered reactions, you will probably be wearing a soft and fond expression on your face. After that, she will finally cease in her movements, and the two of you will lean back and enjoy the simple imagery of the moon and its distorted reflection over the lake water.

It will be in that moment that you're certain you are where you belong.

You never have been a social person.

You probably never will be.

**End**

 


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